


Might As Well Face It

by MissSunFlower94



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Mutual Pining, Pining everywhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-04 18:33:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4148442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissSunFlower94/pseuds/MissSunFlower94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Tell Him never happened and Marianne and Bog go their separate ways after the main events of the movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No Doubt, You're In Deep

**Author's Note:**

> Yes the title/chapter titles are Addicted To Love references.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which two people pine a lot

Marianne dragged her feet, pacing along the parapet that crowned the fairy palace and tried not to look at the border to the Dark Forest, a visible dark line where the fields ended and thick foliage began. She’d always felt the palace was oddly close to the border and now its proximity felt like some kind of joke on Marianne personally, just how close they were.

_So. Um. Bye!_

Marianne kicked a fist-sized pebble off the edge, letting it echo, satisfyingly loud, as it tumbled down to the earth. It still did little to ease her frustration.  _Bye_? The Bog King had risked his life to rescue her sister, had been a strangely comforting companion to her for the duration of the  _very_ strange night, had fought with her - in all sense of the term -, had amused her, irritatedher, made her  _happier_  than she could remember being in months…

And all she’d had to say to him was  _bye_?

 _It wasn’t for want of trying_ , she thought to herself, wanting to kick something again but finding nothing nearby. She had begun… something, something she knew she had wanted to say even with the words not fully formed in her mind as she tried. Oh, and she had wanted to say… whatever that was, but it wouldn’t come. It wouldn’t take a shape, a word, to associate with this feeling so new and unexpected. Even if it was _so glaringly obvious_ in hindsight. It was love. Love. Love love love love love. 

She sighed. By every star, it had been so obvious that really the idea that she had even needed to tell him at all should have been pointless - so obvious that he had to have known just looking at her, she had to have known just looking at him.

But she hadn’t. And he clearly hadn’t. And now here they were.

It had been two days. Not necessarily long, but they had felt like eons to Marianne, who spent them wondering if she could find some excuse to go back to the Dark Forest. Technically, it wouldn’t be very easy; her father had been doing everything in his power to strengthen security between the fields and their neighbors, worked into quite the tizzy over the troubles of that particular night, by how unguarded the borders had been, how easy it had been for the Bog King to kidnap a member of the royal family, how easy it had been for Sunny to have snuck into the Dark Forest and, admittedly (and by no one more than himself), gotten everyone into this mess. 

Marianne understood where her father was coming from, but she was more quick to blame isolationism - as she always had - for causing trouble between the two kingdoms, and increasing it wasn’t going to do anyone any good. Now seemed like as good a time as any to try and talk her father around to creating stronger ties to the Dark Forest, rather than stronger walls to keep them apart, although she had to admit her opinions were now wholly biased, based on a desire to remain close to its king as much as any. Unbidden the memory of herself, a young fairy, looking into arranged political marriages against her father’s express wishes, came back to her. Perhaps…

 _Really Marianne_ , she thought to herself bitterly.  _Marriage_? Nothing good came down that path, even if Bog was nothing like Roland. Nothing at all. 

She growled under her breath, frustrated with the way her thoughts ran in circles, and abandoned her pacing. What she would give for a good training bout with her handmaidens (a good spar with a certain monarch who had not only taken her seriously but had given her the best, most challenging, most entertaining fight she could have ever hoped to experience) but that would require a sword, and hers sat at the bottom of a ravine, quite probably broken beyond all repair. And while losing her sword felt trifle compared to even the memory of the pain she’d felt thinking she might have lost Bog to that ravine as well, it had taken her  _years_ to convince her father to get her her own sword, and by the stars, she knew he wasn’t going to be eager to get her a new one.

“Maariiaaanne? Marianne!” 

She was woken from her reverie to her sister’s voice, the obvious exasperation making it clear this was not the first or even second time Dawn had said her name.

“Um. Hi?” She said. “Have you been looking for me?”

Dawn groaned. “Not hard to look when you’ve been sitting here everyday… gazing off at his kingdom.”

She bristled. “I do not- I am not gazing!”

“You are gazing. Dare I even say pining…?”

Marianne glared at her sister, despite the burning in her cheeks. She’d always been prone to spacing out, but it was something more to be caught spacing out thinking about him. About the king of the Goblin Kingdom, about his moonlit blue eyes and crooked smile, about the name  _tough girl_  spoken in a rough brogue, with just enough combination of a challenge and an invitation in his tone…

She was doing it  _now_ , even while thinking about  _not_ doing it. Dawn was right; she had it bad.

Dawn took in her silence and came to the exact right conclusion. Her expression softened. “Go talk to him.”

“What? I can’t just-”

“Why not?” she interrupted. “He said you could visit, didn’t he?”

Whenever she’d like, she recalled. It had been so far from what she had wanted to hear him say - _I love you, I love you, I love you_  - that she hadn’t properly appreciated the sentiment until long after they had gone their separate ways. Their kingdom’s had been isolated, on messy terms at best, for as long as she or anyone could remember. Bog extending an invitation to her, the crown princess, that she was welcome in the goblin kingdom, in his world… it was nothing small, nothing trivial.

And she had just up and left! She was so stupid, stupid, stupid!

Shaking herself, she addressed her sister. “And what would I even say? Remember me, I’m the reason you don’t have a castle anymore!”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “I think Roland is the reason for that, as he is for everything.”

Marianne shrugged. “Okay, that’s true.” Although it was no fun to blame him if she couldn’t punch him -  _again_  - for it as well. No one had heard from Roland since she’d socked him and let the potion go down with it. Marianne could only hope he’d fallen for a rock and proceeded to let it crush him. 

Dawn sighed. “Really, Marianne. Is it that hard to say I love you?” Marianne opened her mouth but was sharply cut off. “Don’t you deny it.”

“I wasn’t going to!” She said, defensively. And truly, she wouldn’t have. The simple fact that the love potion had bounced off of her was proof enough that her heart belonged elsewhere, but even before then… just seeing that he had survived, after what he had risked to get Dawn out, after he’d done everything for her. The spark she hadn’t dared acknowledge was suddenly alight in her, as clear as if it had been written the sky. 

Dawn sat, cross-legged, on the edge of the parapet. “Talk to him,” she repeated, stubbornly. “You don’t have to tell him you love him today, but you should at least say something. He wouldn’t have offered if he didn’t want to see you, too.”

Marianne flushed, and quickly looked away. She glanced at the sky, watching it turn a shades of orange and pink with the sunset. “Not today,” she said. “It’s getting late.” the moon would rise soon enough, she thought before she could stop herself, thinking about the Dark Forest, glowing and beautiful, and the king who had showed her his world so readily, let her into his life…

She shook her head furiously, and gave her sister a tight smile.

“Tomorrow?” Dawn prompted.

She gulped, feeling her chest go tight, but yes. Thinking about the moon, thinking about him… suddenly another day of this felt unbearable. 

“Tomorrow.”

* * *

The Bog King’s old castle was not so close the border as the fairy palace and between the thickness of the ground-cover and width of century-old trees, that border was impossible to view. It made logical sense, of course, to build the new castle further into his kingdom, further away from fairies and elves and creatures who tried to meddle in the Dark Forest’s affairs. Bog knew all of this to be true, and were he himself would gladly work on building up his fortress, his defenses, his walls.

But the Bog King hadn’t felt much like himself - that part of himself - of late. He glowered in the general direction of the waning moon as it peaked through the canopy of trees, as if blaming it for all the trouble he was in. Then, too late, caught himself wondering if, a kingdom away, a fairy princess was looking at that moon and thinking of an… adventure two nights previous, of  _him_. 

Bog squeezed his eyes shut as if in an effort to shove the thought away. _She wasn’t, of course she wasn’t you damned fool_. Why would a creature like her be wasting any of her time thinking about him?

Gods, and it wasn’t helping that Plum was now both free and partnered up with his mother of all people, with the singular intention of making his life miserable. They’d say it was with the intention of seeing him admit his feelings to the princess Marianne but really that was the same thing right then.

“Talk to her,” they had chorused (and gods, if he had thought his mother’s voice was grating it was nothing compared to what it was with Plum’s high-pitched pipes playing harmony) earlier that evening, clearly not ready to give him any semblance of peace.

“No,” He had returned flatly. This was only to be met with a litany of outraged remarks that made his head scream in pain.  

“Didn’t you see the way she looked at you?”

“The potion didn’t work - what more proof do you need?”

“I’ve never seen you so happy!”

“She’s perfect for you!”

He had tried shooing them off, glaring and growling and reminding them that he had a castle to rebuild  _thank you very much_ , and plenty more important things to worry about than what to do with his feelings for a fairy princess.

The fact that he, inadvertently, admitted aloud that he had those feelings for said princess, only egged them on further.

Flustered and irate, Bog only got them off topic when he - in his desperate attempts to shut them both up - had called Plum ‘ _mothe_ r’ by mistake. They were now arguing about mother-figures, if not louder than they had been before, but at least he could escape.

Now back at the ruins of his old castle, Bog rummaged through, trying to salvage what he could, mostly records and artifacts, the rest deemed replaceable. It was oddly cathartic work, especially late at night, when the rest of his subjects were gone and he could actually be left to his own thoughts. 

Already the events of that night felt like a dream to Bog, with only his ruined castle to serve as any proof of it’s reality. Already he was questioning what memories he had of it - of her -  because certainly, certainly, they could not have truly happened the way they did in his head. She couldn’t have smiled at him the way he pictured her smiling, warm and gentle, lighting up her wide brown eyes with understanding and, dare he say, affection. Nor could she have let him take her through his kingdom, looking at it with such awe, trusting him entirely. 

No, and even if he  _hadn’t_ simply imagined these things, they had been the product of an odd alliance, formed in a night so strange that all bets had been off. By morning whatever magic had touched her, touched them, would have broken, their lives returned to what they had been before. There was no way she could still- she had ever- 

 _The potion hadn’t worked_ , he reminded himself, echoing Plum’s earlier words. There was no way that had been remembered wrong or misconstrued. She had been dusted and it had had no affect on her. 

 _She was already in love with someone else_. 

**No.**

He shook himself from that thought - that hope - from daring to even let it form in his head. And, gods, and it wasn’t that Bog didn’t  _want_  to see her. It was that he wanted to see her so much he could think of little else. It was that whenever he thought about seeing her, of talking to her, he felt this throat close up. It was that, quite honestly, Bog had no idea how to be in love.

 _Feel free to visit whenever you’d like_.

His mother and Plum were right, damn them. Fool as he was to have fallen for Marianne - and he was - he was a bigger fool for letting her go.

And now he couldn’t just go and talk to her, the way he was being so pressured to. The gods only knew how the fairy king had reacted to the events of that night, but Bog suspected it hadn’t been good. He’d never minded his isolation but now things had changed,  _oh had they changed_. Of course, Marianne wasn’t the type to be held back by borders or orders to stay out of the forest. Bog didn’t question that, but if he were to make any attempt to go to her…

He could kidnap her. Surely there was a party coming up, there always seemed to be. The idea was both laughably absurd in the thought of Marianne being a damsel in distress in this scenario, and alarming in how tempting the idea was, insane and impractical though it was. Anything to see her again. 

He had it bad. 

Sending another scowl in the direction of the moon, Bog attempted to marshal his thoughts into something more productive. Like the idea that, if searching through the rubble went according to plan tonight, he might very well have an excuse to see his beautiful, fierce, perfect Marianne. 

What he was going to say to her when he did could wait.

 _Tomorrow_ , he thought, letting a bit of hope color his thoughts. She didn’t have to love him back, he only wanted to see her again. 

Tomorrow.


	2. Running At a Different Speed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which two people have shitty timing

It was late afternoon when Marianne chose to return to the Dark Forest, and she almost wished she had waited until nightfall. The forest was, oddly enough,  _darker_  in the day time. None of the natural luminescence she had been introduced to had come out yet and the sun - which barely poked through in broad daylight - was beginning to set, casting an odd angle to the shadows.

Not to mention that all goblins, for all that they looked different in every other way, had a very similar color-scheme suited for natural camouflage. She could be passing over the entirety of his kingdom without knowing, but she doubted that. His guard had never been particularly adept, and right now she had a feeling their attention was diverted, more focused on the re-building of a ruined castle than looking out for a fairy princess stumbling in and looking for their king.

She sighed, remembering her conversation with Dawn that morning about that very problem.

“His castle is gone,” Marianne had said, running her fingers through already wild hair and think that it was a damn good thing that appearances weren’t what attracted she and the Bog King to each other, because by the way the morning had been going she wasn’t going to be at her fairest. 

Dawn had blinked bleary eyes at her across the dining table, and Marianne winced sympathetically. It was admittedly a little early in the morning to be having a crisis, but she needed to have it to someone. Really, Dawn should have been grateful that Marianne had returned to confiding in her her anxieties, rather than letting them stew within her forever.

“Yes,” she said at last. “I was there.”

Marianne allowed a moment to crinkle her nose at her sister before returning to the matter at hand. “How am I supposed to know where he is if the castle is gone?  I can’t just- the Dark Forest is huge, what if I can’t find him today?” Marianne stood, then sat again, deciding against her agitated pacing. “And I can’t just ask someone where their king is, and I mean, what if no one is awake?” She gasped suddenly. “What if goblins are nocturnal?  _Are_  goblins nocturnal? I mean, it would make sense, and we met at night so how would I even know?  _Skies_ , Dawn! How do you begin a relationship with someone if one of them is nocturnal!?”

“Marianne!”

“What?”

“Breathe!” Dawn was holding her hands up, wide-eyed, and Marianne had realized she indeed needed to do that. She exhaled shakily, ready to begin ranting again, but she had lost her train of thought. Dawn watched her carefully until she was sure that she wasn’t going to speak again. “You make such a big deal out of everything.”

Marianne felt her lips twitch. “I can’t help it?”

Dawn had grinned, then tapped her chin. “I overheard some of my guards talk about wanting to sleep at one point that night, so I don’t think they’re nocturnal.”

She sighed, closing her eyes and slumping back in her seat, relieved by this information. Then she straightened, eying her sister skeptically. “You really remember  _everything_  that happened that night? Even when you were-”

“Yup,” she said, bluntly, still smiling even as Marianne had felt herself flush on her sister’s behalf. “It feels sort of fuzzy, like remembering a dream, but yeah. I wouldn’t be shoving you at Boggy if I didn’t remember that he was a total sweetheart underneath everything.”

Thinking about it now, Marianne had to laugh again at the almighty Bog King being called a  _sweetheart_ , even if she knew as well as Dawn that it was true.

“Princess! Princess Marianne!” Two voices were calling to her from the forest floor, breaking her out of her thoughts completely. The surprise that any goblins knew her name, and the lack of hostility in their tone caused her to pause and then concede to dropping to the floor as gracefully as she was able. 

Looking over the two amphibian creatures she realized she recognized them from her time with Bog. They were his messengers... of a sort. She didn’t know their names (Stuff and Thang, she thought, but which one was which?) or official job descriptions but the fact that they had seemed often if not always on hand boded well for their boss being nearby. She felt her heart give a little lurch at that. Hey, no backing out now, Tough Girl.

“Um, hello. You... two.” She said, trying to smile at them. To their credit they looked legitimately pleased to see her. And... unsurprised. “Did you- how did you know I was coming?”

“Mushrooms passed it on,” said the taller, rounder of the two.

The shorter one piped up. “Said there was a fairy in the forest, and we knew it had to be you.”

Marianne decided she didn’t want to know why that was - or rather, she knew exactly why that was and chose not to dwell on it. “Er- great!” She rocked back on her heels, swinging her arms awkwardly at her sides. “So, is Bog- the Bog King- is he... around?”

There was a long silence that was really all the answer Marianne needed. They whispered a little before the short one - Thang, she decided - said. “No, my lady. He said he’d be away all day on important business.” He was elbowed and looked at his companion. “What?”

They whispered again before she heard Thang whisper “But that doesn’t matter for _her_!” with conviction.

“What doesn’t matter for me?” She asked. They looked ready to confer and she waved her hands at them. “Just tell me.”

Stuff spoke this time. “BK also said to be certain no one disturbed him-”

“But that didn’t mean her!” Thang interrupted plaintively.

“How do you know?”

“Well he  _likes_  her! She makes him do smiling things!”

Marianne felt her face grow very warm indeed and quickly inserted herself back into this. “Woah woah woah!” They both shut up and looked at her. “I- how about we l-leave that for the moment! Did he say where he was going for this - um important business?”

“Nope,” they said together.

“Did he say when he was going to be back?” Where  _back_  was, Marianne didn’t yet know either, but she was grasping at straws already without adding that to the pot. 

“Nope.” 

“Did he say... what this business was?”

She answered it silently just as they did. “Nope.” Of course not. She silently cursed the Bog King in her head. _Being_ mysterious _was all well and good, mister, but I really, really wanted to talk to you_.

Stuff continued, “Just that it was important and not. to. be disturbed.” The last said with a very obvious glare at Thang.

“He’d want  _her_  to disturb him!”

“Hey! Leaving that, remember?” Marianne said quickly, although she wasn’t really paying attention to them. The disappointment hadn’t so much replaced her earlier nerves as intermingled with it in a uncomfortable mix in the pit of her stomach.

The goblins watched her reaction carefully before Thang tentatively asked, “Would you like us to take a message?”

Marianne started out of the beginnings of unhappy thoughts. “What?”

“Is there something you wanted to tell him? We can let him know when he returns,” Stuff informed her helpfully.

Marianne barely spared a second considering this possibility.  _Do you think you could tell your king that I’m in love with him? That I can’t stop thinking about him, and if he’s going to take up residence in my head the least he could do was be around when I need to talk to him?_

_Hah!_

“No message,” she said firmly.

“Did you want to wait here for him, then?” Stuff asked.

“No!” She said, a little more forcibly than she had intended. Sure the forest wasn’t nearly so frightening as she had once thought it, and she probably had earned the protection of its king, it was still a very foreign land to her and without the one person she knew and trusted... “No, I’m- I’m going to head back... um... soon. Yeah.”

“So, what should we tell him?”

“Nothing!” Marianne said, a touch frantic now. They blinked at her and she waved her hands. “I don’t want him to, you know, feel guilty about missing me or- or anything. So yeah. Um. Please?”

“Okay,” Stuff said, pausing before muttering. “Will be hard to keep Griselda quiet about it-”

“Oh  _stars_!” Marianne squeaked, imagining exactly how that would go. “Do not, under any circumstances, tell Griselda, or you know,  _anyone_  else that I came today!”

“Anyone?”

“Yep! You know what - just, just pretend you didn’t see me! This never happened! I was never here! Okay?” 

They blinked a few times more before Thang said, “Okay,” in a tone that was obviously confused but willing to obey. Stuff nodded beside him and Marianne relaxed. “Will you come back tomorrow?” He added.

Now Marianne blinked down at the two creatures, then looked around the forest. “I... I’m not sure.”

He’d like to see her, she told herself, she knew he would. But if he was busy or had matter more important she didn’t want to intrude. The Bog King was, first and foremost, that; a king.

But she loved him. And he needed to know.

* * *

 

The Bog King eyed the primroses, growing along the border, with characteristic distaste. Things being a bit hectic the last few days, he hadn’t had any goblins to spare on working to cut them down. And he had every intention to continue cutting them down. The fairy kingdom might have learned their lesson this time around but gods knew how long it would last and he didn’t need something this... eventful happening every few years. 

Granted,  _eventful_ was what had landed Marianne in his life. But Bog figured he could be grateful for the result while still hating its cause.  

There was barely a plan to what he was doing, just a knowledge of the fairy palace’s whereabouts and an excuse for why he was there fastened to his staff. Bog had a feeling he should be working out what to say to Marianne, or to anyone else who demanded to know what he was doing on fairy land... but of yet, he’d seen no one, and been seen by no one. He knew he was in no position to criticize the security of his neighbors, seeing where his own measures had gotten him. An elf, a fairy, an entire army all breeching defences... culminating in a wreck of a castle (and the further wreck of his heart, but he wasn’t going to think about that).

But to be completely honest, he had expected a little _more_. Certainly hadn’t expected to be able to just fly across the border and into fairy territory without having seen a single armor-clad guard. At least he had sentries, whatever could be said for their competency. At this rate, he could very well waltz in and kidnap Marianne should he so choose.

Of course, that  _wasn’t_  the plan. And even if it were, half the fun of that was evading any security, single-handedly outsmarting and outmaneuvering any of the guard that a princess might have, whisking her off to his kingdom from under their noses. Better yet, to take her away with her useless guard looking on, unable to stop him. Bog was quick to admit his vices and his penchant for dramatics was certainly up there.

But kidnapping wasn’t the plan.

He was just... keeping it in reserve. In case Marianne liked the idea. Was it still kidnapping if it was consensual?

Whether kidnapping or not, the idea that this evening might end with her returning to the Dark Forest with him, even if on intermediate basis, made him shiver. The night before he couldn’t have dared imagine it, but oddly enough now that he was there, or on his way to see her, the adrenaline pushed back the anxiety and he found himself... hopeful.

The fairy palace was absurdly close to the border to his lands, and Bog had never been happier for that than in that moment, although it left him little time to think through any sort of strategy to finding her. If it was anything like his castle had been, there were probably all sorts of mazes of rooms where she could be. Would she even be in the palace? He had no idea how fairies - royalty or no - spent their days. What if he didn’t-

A yell, high and terrified, jolted him out of his thoughts, and he sighed. Much as he had been expecting it, eventually it was a nuisance he didn’t want to deal with. Bog had half a mind of ignoring it. Let word get out, whatever. There was a reason kidnapping was still in reserve.

Then the voice beneath him cried, “I’m sorry! Please don’t hurt me!” 

That gave him pause. It probably wasn’t unusual to think his presence meant danger, probably wasn’t inaccurate either. But the apology, while to be completely honest,  _he_ was the one trespassing, had him curious and Bog decided to look for the source.

An elf, short with probably half of his height attributed to his hair, stood on the edge of a rope bridge that separated the wilder land of the fields from a small village... on the other side of which sat the fairy palace. Bog settled closer, before realizing that he recognized him as the elf that had come into his forest, taken a primrose petal, snuck into  _his_  forest, had the potion made and set everything into motion to begin with.

 _I’m sorry_  indeed.

Although, after everything that had happened, punishing the instigator of it all hadn’t exactly been at the top of his priority list, if something he was considering at all. By all accounts, it looked as though Marianne’s ex-fiancé had been the one to worry about and he had been very neatly taken care of (by her, no less). And anyways, even if Bog  _had_ intended to punish the lad, he wasn’t exactly in position of a dungeon right then. 

He realized all at once that the elf (he was fair sure Marianne had called him Sunny, and didn’t put it past elves to name their kids things like that) was still apologizing, near hyperventilating in his attempts at self-preservation. He was about to tell the poor creature to shut up when he added, “ _Just ask Marianne!_ ” to his litany.

“Wait,” Bog said quickly. 

“...What?”

“First of all, stop that. I’m not here for ye,” he deadpanned. 

“Yo-You’re not?”

“No.” he said flatly. “Now what were ye saying about Marianne? Do you know her?”

Sunny blinked and then, surprisingly dry for someone who had been fearing for his life seconds ago, said. “She _is_ the princess.” Bog made an irritated noise that thankfully reminded him to be afraid because he quickly added. “But yes, I’ve known her and Dawn most of my life.”

Bog considered this, already glad he had decided against hurting him. Upsetting either of the two fairy princesses was not something he was interested in. Vaguely he remembered seeing Dawn with him before the fairy king had dragged his daughter’s away and the whole fairy kingdom had departed. He’d been a bit focused on the fact that Marianne was getting away, but not so much that he hadn’t noticed anything around him.

When he’d said nothing, Sunny added. “Why?”

“What?”

“Why do you want to know, about Marianne?” He asked, managing to sound both suspicious and knowing.

Bog glared at him, hating the fact that he could feel his face heating up. He had a reputation to uphold here. “I have my reasons.”

“You’re... not going to kidnap her are you?”

He couldn’t help but snort out a laugh at that, looking down with a sardonic smirk. “I’ve been considering it,” he said slowly, enjoying the way the elf’s dark face paled, before continuing. “But mostly I would like to talk to her. Where is she?”

Sunny gulped, but seemed to know better than to disobey the request, especially since he was currently in oddly good graces with the Dark Forest’s king. “She-” he began before wincing. “No, she’s  _not_  in the palace. I talked to Dawn and she... said something about Marianne being gone all day. Something she needed to take care of.”

Bog blinked, feeling any hope in him curdle and turn sour. “Did she say  _where_?”

“No.”

“Did she say when she’d return?” He demanded. 

Sunny just shook his head. 

Bog growled his frustration so loudly he heard the poor elf jump back from him. He didn’t waste anytime feeling sorry about that, at the moment. 

Hesitantly the elf asked. “Did you want to ask Dawn?”

“What?” 

“Dawn probably knows, she just didn’t tell me.”

Bog considered this, considered seeing Dawn. He liked her, well enough, knowing enough to know she was an innocent creature who certainly hadn’t deserved anything that had happened to her that night. He was aware the potion had broke was grateful for that but now he had no idea how she would react to seeing him now that she was no longer under its power.

_Hello, I kidnapped you and then fell in love with your sister. Now she won’t bloody stay out of my head so can you please tell me where the hells she’s gone off to?_

He almost laughed at the absurdity of it. 

Besides, he didn’t want Marianne to know he’d come if he didn’t end up seeing her himself. Didn’t want to know what she might think of his coming to see her, didn’t want to have her thinking about it or drawing any kind of conclusions from it - however accurate they may be. 

“No,” he said at last. “And don’t ye dare tell her, or her sister - or  _anyone_  - that I’ve come, understand?”

Sunny looked confused, but nodded slowly. “Did you want to leave that?” He added, gesturing to the staff. or more accurately, what was tied to it.

“No!” Bog said louder, clutching it tighter to him protectively. It was selfish of him, but Marianne receiving it from anyone but him - even if it came with the knowledge that it  _was_ from him attached - was out of the question. If he was going to see her again, and he  _was going to see her again_ , he wanted to see her face when he presented it to her. 

“Okay!” Sunny said quickly, waving his hands as though to placate him. 

Bog sighed, rubbing one temple tiredly. This was perhaps not the disappointment he might have expected from this day but it was disappointing all the same. “Right,” he said, giving a curt nod and preparing to leave. “Remember, not a word.” 

Sunny made a gesture of zipping his lips closed and Bog almost smiled. Whatever else could be said about the elf, he was smart. Bog could appreciate that.  A thought occurred to him and he added, “And take care of Dawn, ye hear me?” And took off before he could possibly respond.

He headed toward the primroses in the fading light of early evening, not really paying attention to what was around him. He was too busy stewing a bit over the fact that it had now been three nights since he had seen Marianne, and it was driving him near mad. The option of kidnapping looked more promising by the second. 

Bog spared a moment to glare at the primroses again, looking down at them and debating dropping and ripping a few apart just to ease his feelings. He hadn’t slowed however, and wound up barreling completely into  _something_ else that had been flying his direction. He dropped and so did it, both landing hard just underneath the bloody flowers. 

He was in the process of rubbing his forehead - he’d knocked it on whatever it was - when whatever it was spoke.  _It couldn’t be_.“Sorry! Sorry I wasn’t paying attention and I-  _BOG?_ ”

Yes there. Underneath the primroses, rubbing a red spot on her forehead, and staring at him in the same open shock he knew was on his own face, sat the princess Marianne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry not sorry about the cliffhanger


	3. And You'll Be Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Two People Stumble Through Their Emotions

The fairy princess and the goblin king both stared at each other in stunned silence for some indefinable period of time, some mixture of shock, delight, and terror churning in both of them. Both of them had wanted nothing more than to see the other mere seconds ago, and now neither of them had the faintest idea of what to say.

Finally Marianne’s aching head demanded some of her attention, and she applied a little more pressure to the sore spot. At this reminder of their collision, the Bog King shook his paralysis, coming to her side in one rapid motion. She wasn’t bleeding but Bog he a feeling their literal butting of heads hurt her far more than it had him.

Bog looked her over carefully, concern overtaking nerves momentarily, while it reoccured to him just how much Marianne was a  _fairy_. It wasn’t necessarily that he forgot, what with them being a kingdom apart and all, but only that she was so fierce, and wild and angry and more like _him_ than any one he had ever known - and nothing like Bog would have imagined a fairy princess to be. It was oddly easy to forget that she was physically a fairy, soft and delicate. Imagining Marianne as  _delicate_  was absurd.

But she was so  _small_ , too! If someone had told him a week prior that he not only would have fallen in love again, but with her - this _tiny_  little spitfire of a fairy, with her large wide-set eyes, and smooth, vulnerable pink skin… he would probably have locked them up. But here they were, and there she was.

And, by every god, she was  _beautiful_.

“Are ye alright?” He finally asked.

Marianne flushed a little at his tone - the surprising gentleness in such a rough voice - and attempted to wave the worry away, even while she winced. “I’ll be fine - I  _am_  fine. It was my fault… any…way…” She felt herself trail off as she met his eyes, becoming suddenly very aware of how close they were. Oh, and his eyes… they were even bluer than she remembered, the same color as the clear sky overhead, as dusk settled around them.

She had forgotten - even in her vivid memories of their night together - how  _different_  he looked. Different from her, different from what other goblins she hd seen, all sharp lines and angles, bark-like scaly texture and grey-toned skin, so  _tall_ , even as he currently crouched at eye-level with her. He was nothing at all like what a good fairy girl was supposed to want. 

Bog breathed a relieved sigh at her assurance of her well-being. A smile turned one corner of his lips and further softened his eyes. “Good.”

He was  _gorgeous_.

For a moment they just… looked at each other, silence stretching between them again. They were still nervous, incredibly so, but it was easily buried under the almost giddy joy they both felt. Neither had consciously acknowledged the thought in the aftermath of everything that had happened, but it had occurred to them both:  _would they ever see each other again_?

“Hi,” Marianne said and inwardly cringed.  _Witty opening line there, Marianne._

“Hello.” Smiling wasn’t a facial contortion the Bog King was used to making - he had a feeling his jaw would start to ache if he continued grinning at her like a bloody loon - but gods, if he couldn’t make himself stop. “What were you doing in the Dark Forest?” He asked, when it finally occurred to do so.

Marianne’s face grew warm, nerves reasserting themselves. “I- well, um- you said I could visit!”

“I did,” Bog agreed, not adding that he would have all but camped at the border until she returned but that he had never _dared_  dream she would actually take him up on his offer, would ever return. “Was it… to your liking?” He asked, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck.

“Yes!” She said, quickly. “Well, I mean, I didn’t stay very  _long_ \- I just. I was told you were- busy… so…”

Hearing her admit to coming to the forest with the express purpose of seeing him made Bog’s heart race. That Marianne had come to see him, only to see him… that she had sought him out just as he had her…. he was smiling so wide it must have split his face. He probably looked utterly ridiculous, but when Marianne met his eye she was smiling too, that same soft smile that she had given him that night, that Bog had half-convinced himself he had imagined. 

At that smile, he also remembered exactly _why_  he hadn’t been in the forest to meet her, why he had sought  _her_  out. “Yes, well- I- ah… I had something I needed to do.” He stood, then extended a hand to pull her to her feet, trying very hard not to let himself get distracted by the feel of her soft skin against his palm, or the fact that she didn’t hesitate in taking his hand. 

Marianne on the other hand, hesitated  _very_ much when it came to  _releasing_  his hand, and did so very reluctantly, fighting the urge to stroke where he had touched her. She remembered - oh, how she remembered - the jolt she felt every time he had touched her, from the accidental knocking of their fists to him grazing her cheek, long sharp claws so gently tracing her jaw after tucking that flower into her hair. But there was remembering and there was  _feeling_  it, in present, and  _man_ , memories were a poor second. 

“Your, um, subjects said it was important business?” She continued, just to say something and _really_ , this was just getting ridiculous. Marianne was happy to see him -  _ **understatement**_  - but if she didn’t get something substantial out soon they would be in the exact same situation they’d been in three days previous. 

He nodded absently, going to retrieve his staff. “Aye,” he said, focusing on the ties that bound his gift to the staff, and undoing them, before extending it out to her, trying both not to look at her and to gauge her reaction. “Ehm… here.”

Marianne blinked at him, then at the outstretched object, her breath catching in her throat. It was wrapped in a dark leafy type of parchment, twine holding it together - but the shape was unmistakeable.  _It couldn’t be_ …

She took it from him, her hands trembling a little as she undid the last ties and unwrapped her sword.  _ **Her sword**_! It looked in need of sharpening and a very thorough cleaning but it was miraculously unbroken, un _dented_  even. How had he-? When had he-? 

 _His_ important business _had been to go completely out of his way to return this to her._

Marianne blinked rapidly trying to keep herself together. The last thing she needed was to become a blubbering mess in front of him. After everything he had already done, he still surprised her, amazed her,  _as if she had needed any reason to love him more_ … “How did…?” She said softly, still staring at it.

Bog cleared his throat. “I was- well, sorting through what could be salvaged from the castle and- it must had fallen under an overhang that- er- shielded it from most of the rubble. It- ah- needed a little mending but it was small work and I knew it was- I thought ye might appreciate-” 

He was cut off when suddenly the tiny princess lunged for him, both arms - one still holding her naked sword - looping around his neck. Bog spluttered, feeling his face burning red, and unsure what to do with his hands. He had expected a  _smile_ , genuine delight crinkling up her dark eyes, making her glow in the fading light - that would have been enough, for all his trouble that would have been more than enough. 

But this? This was… well it was… _nice_ , if not wildly unexpected, so much more than he had ever hoped for. This was quickly rivaling their flight together in things that-could-not-possibly-be-real. _Gods, if this_  is  _a dream don’t let me ever, ever wake up._

“Uhm- yer welcome,” he said, pleasure overtaking his shock and a smirk rising to his face again. “But I’d prefer ye don’t hack me to death in your gratitude.”

Marianne released him quickly, her own cheeks burning a warm pink shade. “Sorry, sorry! I just-” she sheathed her sword in the belt she hadn’t yet taken off. She continued to look at it rather than at him, still trying to comprehend the meaning in the gesture - did he even  _realize_  how much this _meant_  to her? He had done so much, was giving her so much and she had nothing to possibly return.  “Thank you. I- you’ve done- I mean, between saving Dawn and- and this- and with everything that happened to your castle because of-”

“Woah!” Bog said, raising his hands and cutting off increasingly frantic ranting, the thank you quickly becoming an apology instead. “That wasn’t  _your_  fault.” 

“But-”

He waved a hand. “No one was hurt in the end and we’ve been able to salvage the important things. Besides, truthfully, the castle had been, er, decaying for years, decades probably. It was long past time I had a new castle but I was… admittedly stubborn in holding onto this one,” he trailed off, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Stubborn?  _You_? Color me surprised,” she said, smiling in turn.

He rolled his eyes. “You’re one to talk.” She snorted. “The point is, it was inevitable in any case.”

Marianne bit her lip. “Still, if I hadn’t-”

“If  _I_ hadn’t been so quick to distrust you, Tough Girl,” he interrupted. Marianne’s heart skipped at the nickname. Great skies, she loved the sound of it. “I imagine things might have gone differently.”

Marianne opened her mouth to protest, before the image presented itself of her choosing to fight alongside the Bog King against the untoward army of her own folk, to see the look on Roland’s stupid face if they had faced him together, no doubts or denials holding them back. How differently things might have gone, indeed. She grinned up at Bog. “We would have been some team,” she said.

He smirked back down at her, liking the dangerous glint in her eyes. This fairy princess was just as vicious as he. “We would have,” he echoed. 

The weight of the simple phrase, the  _would have_ , settled over them both. What they  _would have_ had. What they  _could have_  had. 

Hindsight was always flawless, so the saying went. 

Bog cleared his throat and Marianne wrung her hands, both silently cursing how nervous they had become again. They had just started to fall back into the bantering conversation they both adored and now they could barely look at each other.

 _Say something, say_ anything _, you git. Anything to keep her here with you, even a little longer. Don’t just let her fly away a second time._

 _Come on, tough girl. You wanted to see him today for a_  reason _. Would you be able to live with yourself if you left him again without saying it?_

“I wanted-”

“You know I-”

…

“I think I-”

“I just-”

They both looked at each other, trying to give the other one the cue to speak first, while desperately not wanting to be the person to speak first.

Finally Bog let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “We’re bloody awful at this.”

She had to smile back at him. “We are,” she said, while her heart simultaneously did flip-flops at the implication of what _this_ was. Saying they were both bad at talking about their feelings was admitting they both had feelings to talk about. Baby steps, but so much better than nothing. 

She took a moment to picture her sister’s exasperation if she could see them now and almost laughed. “I’ve been told I’m not good at expressing myself if I’m not shouting or singing,” she added.

Bog snorted, mostly because from what he knew of her that was a true statement if there ever was one. “Goblins don’t have songs for this sort of thing,” he said.

“Fairies sing of nothing else,” she said, dryly. 

“I’ve noticed,” he grinned when she rolled her eyes. “So this should be easy for you.”

She gave a small bitter laugh. “Not me. Different, remember?”

He grinned. “Never a bad thing, Tough Girl.”

Marianne made a face at him. “Well, it is in this instance. And if this is all so  _new_ to  _you_ , how do you even  _know_  what it is?”

She was teasing him, Bog knew, keeping the conversation bantering and light for both their sakes but the words struck him all the same.  “I… don’t know,” he said. What  _did_  he - what did either of them know about real love? They’d never had it before, never experienced being loved much less loving someone else in that way. He was vastly inexperienced where this was concerned.  

“I know that ye won’t stay out of my head,” he continued, almost absently, still holding her gaze. Marianne’s smile slowly faded as he spoke, so earnestly. She had no idea that the Bog King’s voice could go so… soft. She was positively entranced. “Everythin I do or think’s got me wonderin’ what you’d think of it, or how I’d want to tell ye about it, or ask yer opinion. All I can bloody think about is when I’d see ye again.” 

He coughed, aware all at once that he had been rambling, his voice dropping to a accent-thickened mumble as he did. It was a miracle if Marianne  _understood_  even half of what he had just said. 

Marianne, who had heard and understood everything, became aware that she hadn’t actually exhaled since he had begun. She felt a little light-headed, overwhelmed. Even had she allowed herself hope that Bog might feel the same way she did, she had never dreamed he’d say it first, and so damn  _poetically_! Her cheeks were burning pink and she could feel her eyes prickling again.

She had no idea what was written on her face but her silence, at least, was apparently not reassuring because Bog cleared his throat again and looked decidedly away from her. But not before Marianne could see the beginning’s of self-consciousness and dejection trace his features. She felt her heart clench in admiration for this king who had been so willing to bear his heart to her, welcome that pain back into his life, without even a hope that she might reciprocate.

“Bog I-” At her voice, hesitant but hopeful, Bog dared to let himself look at her again. She was red-faced, biting her lip and wringing her hands.

She met his eyes for a moment and looked at the ground quickly. “I mean, you’re- how do I even start? It’s like we barely know each other and yet I also feel like you know me better than anyone I’ve ever met. I’ve fought against you and I’ve fought alongside you and we’ve been through so much… and like we said; we make a good team…” Marianne trailed off, unsure where she had been going with this.

Bog waited for her to continue before quietly prompting. “But…?”

“But?” Marianne blinked, before she realized how her prelude had come off to him. “Wait, no! No, no, no, there is no ‘but’s! You’re- I mean- I told you I was bad at this!” She groaned, running fingers through her hair and looking away. “I shouldn’t be this bad at this - it isn’t like I haven’t been trying for days to figure out how on earth I’m going to tell my dad that I’m in love with the Bog King-!”

… Well, there it was. 

Bog’s eyes went wide, and somewhere in his mind he was aware he was slack-jawed gaping at her. Even her ears were red now, but when she finally managed to look at him she smiled. It was a slightly rueful, bitter smile -  _that was some confession, Marianne, thank the stars no one else got to see that wreck_  - but it held when she saw just how awed it had left him, having just as devastating affect on him as his confession had on her. 

“So…” she said, awkwardly. Where did someone go from there? “I- um-”

She was cut off from any further stumbling as it was Bog’s turn to propel himself forward, bringing long arms around her, lifting her up in his arms and… oh.

Marianne barely had time to make the a squeak of surprise before he was kissing her, and she was quickly bringing her arms around him, pressing herself as close as she could get and responding eagerly.  _Well this certainly cleared everything up_. It was a messy kiss, their faces mashed together awkwardly but just then both were too happy to possibly care.

Only when the need for air reasserted itself did Bog release her, still holding her crushed to him, their foreheads knocking together. They both panted and grinned fiercely at each other, their minds almost blissfully empty. 

“So,” she murmured, more to just say something than anything. “Obviously I didn’t really think any of this through when I came to see you today.” 

“I’d say so.”

She snorted. “And what would you have done, mister, if I  _had_  been at my palace when you came calling?”

Bog had the grace to blush as he lowered Marianne back to the ground, keeping his arms loosely around her. She took in his silence with a grin and snuggled closer to his chest. He considered that he really hadn’t had a plan at all. What  _would_  he have done? Just tossed her sword at her and ran? 

Well, he… had had that  _one_  plan that he’d been considering-

“You could have kidnapped me,” Marianne said. “That would have been fun.”

She felt Bog positively  _freeze_  at her words and she wondered if she’d said the wrong thing, even as a joke. But then he took her by the shoulders, pulling her just far enough away that he could get a proper look at her, and her breath hitched at the downright awe and adoration in his wide blue eyes. 

“ _ **I love ye**_ ,” he said, his voice low and almost husky and Marianne shivered. Her soft, breathy laugh turned into a sigh of pleasure as he kissed her again.

She laughed again when he released her, even if her breath was coming out short and she felt decidedly warm. “We’ll have to keep that in mind for the future. You don’t exactly have a place for a kidnapped princess right now.” 

He grinned down at her, thinking to himself  _oh but when I do that place certainly isn’t goin to be the dungeon_. She must have caught some of his wicked thoughts in that smile because her blush deepened. “We’ll revisit this arrangement then?” He suggested.

Marianne nodded. “In the meantime, do you think, I mean I’d like to spend more time here with- and if you’re busy I don’t have to but- I’d like to help.”

It was amazing, after everything that had already happened, that things she said could still make Bog’s heart feel ready to leap from his chest. He slid one hand down to take hers. “You’re welcome here whenever ye’d like to be here.”

Marianne looked at their hands then up at him. “I’d like that.”

She liked that very much.


End file.
